Calling Home
by BlackMasquerade
Summary: Tragedy strikes for the three-man away team when they undergo a life saving medical mission to a hostile planet. The crew of the Enterprise must bring their people back home. An extended song-fic set to "Major Tom Coming Home" by the Shiny Toy Guns HIATUS
1. Kirk

_Standing there alone,_

_The ship is waiting_

Captain James T Kirk hugged his mother one last time.

"Be safe, Jim." She whispered in his ear as they let go.

"It's a routine mission, mom, I'll be fine." Jim looked down into her eyes and smiled.

She touched his face and smiled back, then nodded signifying he should go.

He looked into her proud face one more time and turned to board the shuttle that would take him to the space station where the _USS Enterprise_ was docked.

The shuttle was a tiny slice of hell, should you have claustrophobia. Even if you didn't, if still wasn't fantastic. Everyone was held closely together in the tiny space; all sweating and breathing. It was generally a memorable experience; for all the wrong reasons.

Kirk tried his best to ignore the excessively sweating Lieutenant next to him and focus on the greater task at hand.

The entire goal of this mission was to assist Camarshia VI, whose population was presently undergoing a plague. The Camarshians were not friends of the Federation, but they had top secret weapons information from other planets in their disliked ranks that they were willing to trade to Starfleet for medical assistance.

Starfleet figured that they were taking a calculated risk in helping the Camarshians, as the benefits for Starfleet itself would far outweigh the medical costs. Kirk knew that he was doing the right thing for Starfleet and, if you went by common Religious views, he was doing the right thing for the Camarshians as well. But there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that was saying: _this is a bad idea_.

The shuttle's pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Fasten your seat belts, we will be lifting of in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"

The shuttle left the ground and Jim looked out the window watching space approach the miniscule vessel.

Despite his nagging fear and worry; he was excited. Going into space always excited him. The thrill of diving into the unknown with his best people by his side was exhilarating.

There was a jolt to the shuttle as they broke through the atmosphere and entered silence. The darkness was awe-inspiring, the silence frightening. That was one thing James Kirk was secretly apprehensive about in space: the silence. Other than that the entirety of the new frontier was fascinating, as his right hand man, Mr. Spock, would say.

He watched the massive space station approach. The shuttle was set to land directly on the _Enterprise_ and dispatch its occupants there. The crewmembers on the shuttle watched in awe as the hatch of the _Enterprise_ opened and the shuttle slid easily into the hanger. The doors closed loudly behind them and the shuttle landed. The atmosphere in the hanger was returned to normal so the passengers could exit the shuttle and hurry off to their stations.

Captain Kirk straightened his golden uniform and headed for the bridge.


	2. Sulu

_All systems are go,_

"_Are you sure?"_

Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu sat at his post and mentally cracked his knuckles. He looked out the front of the ship into space before him, a sight he loved to see every day. But when he considered the current mission, he was unsure of how to accept the flight path he had been given.

Camarshia VI was a known enemy to the Federation. They wanted to dominate the universe; a cliché goal, but theirs nonetheless. They worked with Camarshias III and XII in their conquest for the unattainable.

Sulu was aware, however, that, as unattainable as their goal was, they were developing state of the art weapons systems to make their quest easier. These weapons systems were supposedly highly dangerous, and Starfleet wanted them so that they knew exactly what they were up against.

Finally, after months of negotiation, Starfleet had found an in. Nearly the entire population of Camarshia VI had come down with a virus they were not capable of fighting. A small percentage of their race had died prior to their outreach to Starfleet for rescuing.

A colleague of Doctor McCoy's had analyzed the condition of the people via a video link and determined it was a mutated strain of the flu. He concocted a cure that would save the race and Starfleet had offered it to them; for the weapons schematics.

The Camarshians had grudgingly agreed. Now, both sides had what they wanted.

The crew of the _Enterprise_ would fly to Camarshia VI and an away team would distribute the vaccine and bring back the schematics. The _Enterprise_ would wait at a safe distance from the planet should any extra-rebellious Camarshians decide to unleash the weaponry on the vessel.

Sulu checked over his computer terminal, making sure everything was in order, that all systems were go this time, so as not to repeat his blunder on the maiden voyage of the starship. Yes, everything seemed to be in working order.

The Captain entered the bridge and addressed the crew.

"I figure none of us are particularly keen on our mission but it'll be beneficial in the long run." He didn't look confident with what he was telling the crew. He exhaled heavily. "Let's just get it over with, shall we?" He plunked himself down in his chair.

Sulu turned back to his terminal readying himself for the voyage. He agreed with the Captain: _Let's just get it over with_.


	3. Chekov

_Control is not convinced,_

_But the computer,_

_Has the evidence_

Ensign Pavel Chekov turned around after hearing his Captain tell them to "Get it over with." He couldn't agree more. He was uneasy about co-operating with enemies of the Federation. Especially enemies with allies.

He was especially apprehensive about this mission as he had been chosen to be a member of the small away team that would deliver the vaccine and retrieve the weapons schematics. Needless to say: he was not looking forward to it.

Generally, when an away mission was involved, Pavel Chekov enjoyed the prospect of investigating the unknown. But this was one unknown he knew he didn't want to know; regardless of that knowledge being useful later on for the future of the Federation.

Chekov checked and rechecked his computer terminal making sure that everything was in order. He wanted to make sure that they could get of Camarshian territory quickly should a threat arise during the mission.

Every time he looked through the computer he was met with the same conclusion: everything was in perfect working order. He was glad for that. Any small amount of reassurance at this point was good.

He looked sideways at his best friend, Hikaru Sulu. The other man smiled back.

"Don't worry about it, man. They want what we've got worse than we want what they've got." Sulu tried to reassure his friend. Obviously Chekov looked slightly more unnerved than he thought he did.

"I hope you are right, friend." Chekov responded shaking his head with nerves. "I really, really do."

He went back to the computer and checked the systems over again and then twice more.

Sulu sighed next to him and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Dude." Chekov looked up at him. "Nothing about the ships status will change if you keep looking. Just, try to calm down."

"I don't know how." Chekov replied, running a shaky hand through his light brown curls.

"Just, breathe, or something. The Commander'll be there, anyway. He can strike fear into the hearts of even the most stubborn men when he puts his mind to it." Sulu tried to reassure the nervy young Ensign.

Chekov stopped shaking for a split second and looked up at Sulu and said with unconcealed sarcasm: "How poetic."

Sulu shrugged taking his hand back. "I try." He grinned and went back to prepping the ship for warp.

Chekov smirked and decided to double check the course that he had laid out for Camarshia VI, the only thing had only checked once. As usual: all was well.


	4. Spock

"_No need to abort,"_

_The countdown starts_

The turbolift swished open to allow Commander Spock onto the bridge. He surveyed the scene quickly and headed to his station behind the Captain.

He activated his computer terminal and checked the status of the _Enterprise_. All was functioning properly.

Internally he sighed. There was nothing in his nature that made him want to co-operate with inter-planetary terrorists, especially after the Romulan incident on Vulcan, where his mother, his innocent mother, had been needlessly murdered in the pursuit of revenge against Spock himself.

Spock wouldn't let his extreme distaste for terrorists show on the outside but he was sure there had been some external expression of his feelings for this mission when he had been informed he was to head the away team to Camarshia VI.

One thing was certain this time: he would not let anyone die needlessly. He had vowed to himself that he would take the fall and die for his fellow officers to prevent a similar outcome to the Romulan incident.

He had nearly lost his nerve when Lieutenant Uhura had been assigned to the away team. He had taken the admiral in charge of the assignment aside after words to negotiate. There had been no way he would have let Nyota Uhura take the chance of going on such a dangerous mission.

He managed to get her replaced with Ensign Chekov. The argument that had won the negotiations was that Uhura was a linguist and Chekov was a navigator. There would be more need for a navigator if a hasty retreat was needed from the planet. And, on the side, Camarshians were well versed in English, and no linguist would be needed.

Needless to say Lieutenant Uhura had been infuriated when informed that she would not be accompanying the away mission. Her rage was not quelled when she was told that Spock had been the one to request her removal from the mission. The agreement that followed had been heated.

She seemed to Spock to be completely oblivious to the reasons behind his requests. He told her that he didn't want her to be put in needless danger to which she argued that it was no good for either of them if she stayed behind while he went. She expressed the silly human desire to die if he did. He tried to express the illogical nature of her thought but it was to no avail. She was still angry when the conversation had ended, and he held his ground saying that he would rather she be safe.

He remembered her softened and understanding expression when he had brought up losing his mother. She had looked at the ground and apologized profusely for arguing now that she understood his position. She said it was sweet that he cared so much, even though moments before she had been angry about the extent of his protective affection.

"Ensign, our course has been locked in?" Spock approached the young Russian Ensign. Pavel Chekov responded by looked up at Spock with the most shocking look of frightened unease the Commander had ever seen upon the fair young face.

"Yes, C'mmander." Chekov responded with an equally frightened tone.

Spock noted, taken off guard by the normally cheerful and light hearted Ensign having become so… sullen. He nodded nonetheless. "Good work, Ensign." He chose to add: "The mission has an 87.94% chance of working. Being worried is illogical with the odds being so far in our favour."

The Ensign attempted a smile at the Vulcan's attempt at comforting him. "Sank you, C'mmander, but odds vill not ease my worries."

The men looked at each other for another moment before Spock returned to his station and Chekov turned back to his.


	5. Bones

_Watching in a trance,_

_The crew is certain_

In a sense, Doctor Leonard McCoy really hated his job. From his position in sick bay all he could do was stand by like a bump on a log and marvel at what the rest of the crew was doing to ready the ship for one if it's more dangerous missions. Well, he only had to stand by until the away team was ready for launch.

Being the Chief Medical Officer aboard the _Enterprise_ meant that he would be the one accompanying the away team to the surface in order to instruct the people on Camarshia VI how to distribute the vaccine. After the people got what they wanted they had promised to hand over the weapons schematics to Commander Spock and then the team would take it back to the _Enterprise_, the _Enterprise_ would go back to Earth and Starfleet would be set.

Right. Because that would work perfectly. As was usually the case with well planned out excursions something horrible, or at the very least problematic, would arise and throw the team off. That was why they had Ensign Chekov; for a speedy get away should the worst occur.

Now he stood waiting for the familiar lurch of his internal organs as the ship jumps to warp; a lurch that was taking far too long to come. He was medically sure that no harm came to the human body from a warp jump, but the feeling still made him shudder.

He rubbed his sweating hands on his pants legs. His hands tended to sweat profusely when he was this nervous. He had been well informed about the dangers of going to Camarshia VI, considering their widely advertised rebellion against the Federation. Granted, even with the doom-and-gloom warning, he had to go. He really didn't have a choice.

He looked at the nurses; the young, pretty nurses, all chatting away happily about trivial nothings. They were so carefree; so unaware of the _true_ dangers that their very Doctor McCoy was flying off to face. Not to say that they were ignorant of the pending dangers, they understood that the dangers were life-threatening, but they didn't comprehend the sheer magnitude of the dangers.

He wiped his hands again and started to wander around the sick bay, still waiting for that lurch.

The nurses never let anything get out of place so there was no tidying, or, alternately, no griping to be done about untidiness, to take his mind off his nerves.

He ended up sitting on one of the more secluded beds, well out of sight of the nurses, and looked down at his hands which were facing palms down. They were shaking as though he had taken three too many energy supplements. He ran the shaking appendages through his hair and clasped them at his lips. He furrowed his brow and wondered vaguely whether or not he should take a swig of booze to alleviate the edge.

Deciding against it, he lay back on the bed and folded his hands over his chest.


	6. Scotty

_Nothing left to chance,_

_All is working_

Montgomery Scott finished inspecting the last pieces of equipment on the engineering deck prior to take off. Everything seemed to be in working order. Just how he liked to keep it on the _Enterprise_.

He smiled and nodded across an expanse of computer panels at two of the younger female engineers. He could never remember their names correctly, they were twins: the Ensigns Silvana. He could remember, however, that they were two of the smartest individuals on the _Enterprise_, right next to Ensign Chekov.

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he strode leisurely around the deck, checking overhead equipment.

He spotted his little green friend, Keenser, up on the top of a power cell. He didn't bother telling him to get off today for two reasons: a) he wouldn't listen anyway and b) everything was simply going too well today for him to be mad about anything!

He knew that Spock, Bones and Chekov were headed out to possible impending doom on one of the most dangerous diplomatic missions of their lives, but he was confident in his equipment and he was completely sure that nothing would go wrong, technically speaking, in any case.

In fact, he had inspected the shuttle last night himself. That little thing was the most impressive small vessel he had ever encountered! It paled horribly in comparison to the _Enterprise_ of course, but for a small vessel it was pretty good. Not only was it capable of reaching warps speeds, but it was also well protected both by shields and relatively high grade weaponry. Recon vessels weren't what they used to be, and for that Scotty was glad.

He had made it to the transporter room a short while earlier as well. All systems were ready to go and the computers offered no signs of malfunction. If Chekov's navigation abilities failed, on the off chance they could, the transporters would be ready to pluck the crew from space.

Although his exterior suggested that he was confident in the mission at hand and rather pleased with the work he and his colleagues had accomplished, he knew inside that the journey to Camarshia VI would be dangerous and, regardless of how well the equipment worked, it was very possible that one of a million other things could go wrong.

And that worried Montgomery Scott more than anything.


End file.
